


A Resting Place, a Cruel Disgrace

by Cobbled_Vibrance



Category: Aladdin (1992), Aladdin (2019)
Genre: D/s, F/M, Mind Control, Sex, Slow Burn, explicit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 09:03:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20288917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobbled_Vibrance/pseuds/Cobbled_Vibrance
Summary: A simple handmaiden of Agrabah's princess falls under the spell of the mysterious Royal Vizier.Her duty becomes overshadowed by her desire, as the dark sorcerer uses her for his own ends.Could redemption occur, if she dares to be brave?





	1. Attraction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hello_mintblooms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hello_mintblooms/gifts).

> Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to the Disney Property of Aladdin, in any format. The story is being used solely for entertainment purposes. No infringement is intended, and no payment is earned.
> 
> Please enjoy!

The rich dizzying mix of spices are a comfort as I move through the marketplace.  
The princess was dreaming of some new delicacies, so I added that task to the daily shopping. Between the flower vendor, where I paid gold for some lilies, and the butcher, where Rajah’s standard dinner was confirmed for delivery, was a moment to visit the fruit man.  
He grins genially at me, listening when I describe the princess’s want, “She mentioned something succulent, yet firm. Does that sound familiar?” I ask, shifting the bouquet to my other arm. The man chuckled, and opened a basket, tilting it towards me,  
“Dried figs. Best thing. Still juicy, yet full of soft flavor.” I beamed at him,” Perfect!”  
He let me try one to make sure, then scooped some into my basket at my nod. I paid gold, plus a little extra for the princess’s generosity. The vendors needed to know that the royals rewarded. I always remember that rule.  
Biding goodbye, I began my trek back to the palace.  
It was still rather early, so the main boulevard wasn’t crowded. However, the lilies needed to be placed in water soon, so I walked fast.  
This Agrabah heat was fierce for these beauties.  
I began the climb up the palace steps and made my way to the entrance guards standing at attention. They inspected my basket, looking at the figs, and flowers.  
“Purpose?”  
I barely restrained my eyeroll,  
“Josef, you know its for the princess.”  
Josef merely looked at his partner, then back at me. “Purpose?” He repeated.  
I sighed, then dutifully recited, “I bring necessary accoutrements, for the glory of the royal family.”  
Josef nodded, then waved me in. With a huff, I began to pass, but paused as I caught his wink. I smiled back. Duty is duty, after all.  
Making my way into the cool, dim foyer, I went surely through the palace corridors, nodding to fellow servants, bowing to higher stations.  
I take the flowers to the chamberlain for flower arrangements, and then to the kitchens.  
I tip the figs into an acceptable bowl, then store the basket. The head cook holds her hand out for the excess coins and counts them to make sure I didn’t overpay for anything.  
She nods and goes to finish preparing the noon meal.  
The chamberlain finds me adding garnish to the princess’s plate, and gestures.  
I get the bowl of figs, and we go together to the princess, the chamberlain as my escort.  
He is the one to knock on the princess’s bedroom doors, and then open them. My role is to serve.  
I pass through gauzy privacy curtains into the marble room. The princess is lounging on the portico. Several other handmaidens are shading her from the sun. I approach, eyes downcast, and halt the prescribed steps away.  
The chamberlain announces, “Princess, a delicacy?” The princess, indescribably lovely in a morning gown of peacock blues, greens, and golds, looks up and nods.

/^/

My role involves a lot of coordination, and I am the one to head into the city and communicate with other offices. But never talk to royalty, or members of the royal family. Including the royal vizier.  
He is a tremendously powerful advisor, treated with equal deference as the sultan. Perhaps even more so. There are whispers of murmurs about his laboratory, and his dealings with wicked forces, that flow through the servants.  
Women are made aware of his singular appetites; men are made of aware of his terrible power. But it is never discussed openly. It might be he has ears in the walls. And it’s not even worth your life if caught. We never knew what happened to the guards that once grew too bold in their jibes- they were never seen again.  
There is cold fear, and healthy respect, surrounding the Royal Vizier.  
He is usually with the sultan, or in the deeper floors of the palace. Never near the princess.  
That is the only excuse I have. That I was not expecting to see a tall shadow outside the princess’s door. The small shriek I give is almost immediately swallowed by a moan as I recognize him.  
He looms tall, broad shouldered. Robes red and sweeping. But his eyes. His eyes are bright and intimidating, gleaming over a strong nose and a wide firm mouth.  
I can’t look away from him, trapped as I feel right now. I know I need to drop my eyes, to show proper respect, but his gaze trapped me. I stand, clutching the empty bowl to my stomach. It may have only been a moment, but in that moment, my core moved.  
The chamberlain walked right into our détente. He read the situation in an instant, gasped, “Your excellency!” and kneeled. His hand then shot out, latched onto my shoulder, and dragged me down with him.  
My knees hit the floor with a thwack, and I gulped, forcing my eyes to focus on the floor tiles, and trying to breathe through the whirlwind.  
The chamberlain’s fingers tightened and trembled, and I knew I was in trouble. Beneath his fear, the chamberlain couldn’t wait to reprimand me.  
The whisper of a cloak preceded the boots that stopped in our line of vision.  
“Rise.” The voice was sudden, but cool. Disinterested.  
We rose in unison, eyes still downcast.  
“Chamberlain. Go. Announce me.”  
The chamberlain weakly bobbed his head. He barely managed the prescribed knocks before scurrying back into the princess’s quarters.  
There was a pause after the door closed. The feet disappeared, but I could hear him lazily circle me. I managed to keep deep, even breaths. My hands began to unclench from the bowl. In a few more breaths, my shoulders relax, and I am calm. ‘I serve at the pleasure of the sultan.’ I repeat to myself.  
When the feet stop once again in front of me, I am ready.  
“Look at me.”  
‘As you command’ I think. A royal order supersedes any protocol, even if its normally forbidden to make eye contact. So, when I meet those bright eyes again, I am sure of myself.  
He is smirking, a bit.  
“What do they call you.”  
“Inala, your excellency.” My voice is good and deferential, not wobbling. I’m relieved.  
“Inala,” he muses over my name, “ Meaning, a resting place…”, then continues, “What is your role here?”  
I am a little jarred, that he knows what my name means, but get out, “I hold the pleasure of serving the princess in all glories and comforts, your excellency.”  
He nods a bit, as if approving the high protocol answer. How are his eyes so dark yet feel so…?  
“How long have you served in this… pleasure?”  
He lingers over the word, and I feel a faint stirring of… anticipation? No. A warning...  
“I have had the great honor of trained by most imperial chamberlain for the past 18 summers, your excellency.”  
We both seem to be locked in each other’s faze. There’s no sense in it, this pull. But it feels almost as a compulsion. A tendril of through whispers, ‘caution… caution…’ and yet…  
We both hear the chamberlain arrive. I break eye contact as the chamberlain opens the door. The chamberlain bows to the royal vizier, “My lord, please enter.”  
As the vizier passes me, there feels a deliberate brush against my arm. Something electric shoots through me., and I barely keep the gasp in. Such sensation! What is this? I dark my eyes back up, but only see the broad back disappear through the door.  
The chamberlain closes the door behind the royal vizier, then turns to look at me. ‘Oh… no…’  
Swiftly, he strikes me in the arm, in near the same sport as where I was touched.  
“Such disrespect!” he hisses at me. I am quick enough to dodge his second blow and managed to get out, “His Royal Vizier was in the shadows! A soon as-!”  
“No!” He swipes again, irritated at my dodge, “Quit dancing!”  
“Quit striking!” I hiss back. We both stop, panting a little, and survey each other.  
He draws himself up, but then just lets out a gusty sigh, and mops his brow, “Go get the royal handler.”  
I gulp. Rajah. The tiger. The Siberian Tiger. With his handler. Damn.  
I nod, “Yes, Chamberlain.”  
He nods, gives a faint, tired smile, then slips back into the room. 

/^/

I dropped the bowl in the kitchen, give the cook notice of the princess’s company. Her eyebrows raise, but she nods, adding another plate to the princess’s noon meal, about to be sent up.  
I make my way to the grounds.  
Rajah’s royal handler has a bit of a reputation. The chamberlain punishes well.  
The handler – Feruco – thinks himself a ladies’ man. However, what the chamberlain doesn’t know is that I know how to handle him.  
I slam the door open to the kennels, enjoying its crack against the stone wall. The odor of dung almost overwhelms me, but I steel myself,  
“Feruco!” I bark out, hands on my hips. Feruco attempts to saunter from the kennels, but the straw in his hair, his mussed clothing destroys the image. “Why, Inala, I was hoping to see you-“  
I hold a hand up, halting his approach, “Her royal princess requires your obedience –“ I slap the wall for emphasis, “-in fetching Rajah to her chambers.” I glare at him, and snap out, “At. Once!” Finishing with another hand slap against the door.  
It is gratifying to see how fast his face pales, then dash back in the kennels. There’s a small shriek, and a chambermaid is pushed out. Her hair is tangled, and she hurriedly ties her dress back on. As she tries to slink past me, I glare at her too, and she scurries past. Humph, she should know better.  
I hear a quick splash, and clothing move. Then Feruco dashes back, hair wet, and clothes changed. He tries to catchy my eyes, but I harrumph, and raise to strike the door again, which sends him running to the other end of the kennels.  
A loud screeching echoes back to me, then a clang. Feruco, for all his womanizing, is proficient with the menagerie.  
His soothing voice is low, calming, to counterpoint the low rumble of the tiger. I hear Rajah’s paws hit the floor. In the gloom, his eyes are bright, and predatory. Just like – the vizier's! That’s what they remind me of! My heart climbs into my throat, and his remembered touch scalds me arm. But no – I focus on Rayah’s docile approach.  
His eyes are low and lethal, yes, but his gait is calm, relaxed. I breathe slowly again. Yes, he is a large feline, beautifully groomed. The great cat’s thick leather halter wrapped securely to the tiger’s collar. Then end looped halfway up Feruco’s arm. I am glad the animals are treated well here. Rajah positively gleams from his daily brushing. Remembering the size of Rajah’s dinner order, I gulp a little. Both Feruco and Rajah seem smug at my discomfort.  
Right, I glare at Feruco, not wanting to lose control.  
He stands up a little straighter and nods, his eyes now a little afraid. Rajah, meanwhile, gives a low purr, and stretches his back, before huffing and leading the way out of the kennel. I move to let him past, and he butts his great head against my stomach.  
A friendly greeting.  
I can’t help but grin a little and caress his ears. “Beautiful creature.” I coo to him. He snorts, then pads on, the halter lax against Feruco.  
Feruco lets Rajah set the pace up to the castle. I close the kennel door and follow. 

/^/

Escorting a tiger through the palace has become a usual encounter for me. Couriers break into a cold sweat and press against the wall. Meanwhile the castle servants are a lot more blasé, giving us space but otherwise keep moving.  
I was thinking of the Royal Vizier’s questions. Why did he want to know about me? What could it mean? I tried to puzzle it out but didn’t get much headway at Feruco’s constant interruptions.  
He flirts, either with me, or any female within a meter radius of us. I usually scoff at his attempts and shut him down with a “Keep moving.” command worthy of any guard.  
The women, young or old blush and giggle at Feruco’s attentions. Rajah seemed to add to Feruco’s allure. I didn’t see it. Yes, Feruco had classical handsome features, but his womanizing always repulsed me. I felt that I was more than a prize to be won, and knew that Feruco viewed women as conquests, despite all his pretty words.  
Honestly, I’d rather just be with the tiger.  
Its tiring work, thinking of new put downs. We were at the corridor to the princess’s chambers, when one final off-color joke from Feruco had me spit out,  
“You disrespect yourself in this manner, Feruco! Remember your tongue in the princess’s presence, if you can’t remember to hold it in mine!”  
Feruco merely rolls his shoulders, the hold on Rajah’s lead tight after the journey, and says “Inala, you prickly flower. One day you will pluck your nerve and open your petals wide for me.”  
I groan “Not until men are made from some other material than earth.”  
His grin falters, then fades completely.  
I quote, “’I serve at the pleasure of the sultan.’ Remember the vow?”  
He nods, eyes a bit confused. I continue, “Each time you do this, you dishonor the vow in my eyes. I will not be with such a man who holds his worth so low.”  
His considers me, as he watches Rajah lean back on his haunches in front of the princess’s door.  
Feruco looks as if my words hurt him, but as I knock the prescribed number to alert the chamberlain, Feruco’s free hand reaches to touch my check.  
I flinch from his touch, and glare at his laugh, “Perhaps my word, my vow, will sound better over silk sheets.” I gasp in outrage, furious at his wink.  
The door opens, and the chamberlain sees the tension, and smiles. He waves Feruco (well, Rajah) in, and nods at me. He’s pleased that his discipline is achieved.  
I breathe deep and enter my room. I make sure my eyes are lowered and my arms are crossed, as is protocol.

/^/

His eyes, now liquid and dangerous, glinted in the firelight ‘Come, Inala.’  
His voice is honeyed venom. I feel electric and languid. So many opposites. How is this so? I feel wanton and shy. Breathless and bursting. My feet move forward without thought.  
I’m wearing silk slippers, matching sheer pants in midnight blue. May arms are bare, only a scrap of matching blue silk contains my breasts. But I am not aware of any shame in this attire. Rather I feel, exhilarated.  
‘That’s right Inala,’ he whispers, coaxing me to the chaise, ‘closer still.’  
My focus fixates on the plus couch, and I lower myself on it. His voice… it makes my cheeks warm, and desire pools low in by belly.  
So inviting. How could I resist? I stretch out on the chaise, luxuriating in the silk against my body, how the cushions mold to my form. It feels delicious. But where is he?  
‘Inala’ the voice arrests me, it’s right next to me. Want. I want him. I want to see him. Touch him. Have him - I groan and start to pant- have him in me. A small wind coasts over my chest, my nipples pucker immediately. I moan again, eyes closed, wanting more. I want him on me. I want his lips.  
‘Inala’ I gasp and open my eyes to see him – looming over me. I lick my lips as I stare into his eyes.  
‘You want me so quickly, dear one?’ his sensuous lips don’t move, yet his voice fills my head. I rapidly nod. Yes. Oh yes. ‘Say it.’  
I blurt it out, ‘I want you,’ and reach up to caress him, to end this unendurable distance between us.  
He catches my wrist, but the feeling of his skin, finally, on mine, makes me moan. More! I need more!  
‘Say my name Inala, and you will have me.’  
His eyes bore so deeply into mine. So dark brown they appear black, and I almost feel like crying. I’m squirming on the chaise, tightening my thighs to try and relieve the ache between. I beg out. ‘Yes, Yes. I will- ‘I feel a flicker of red overcome me, feeling my lips parts and say it. ‘Jafar!’

/^/

“Inala, are you alright?”  
I blink and find myself in the princess’s chambers. Ja- the Royal Vizier and the princess are seated on the balcony, other handmaidens serving them the noon meal. The chamberlain is standing next to me and Feruco, Rajah at our feet.  
I blink again, and realize the chamberlain was the one who called my name. Shame floods my cheeks, and I blink back sudden tears. Realizing he’s waiting for acknowledgement, I manage to choke out a whisper, “Yes, chamberlain?”  
The chamberlain peers closely at me, and I see that, despite this morning, he is concerned.  
But his next words are to Feruco.  
“Move on to the princess.” There is a ‘remember your place’ heavily implied in his glare. I peek at Feruco, and part of me lifts at seeing his bravado gone. He is the model of servility and slackens the lead on Rajah – a cue for the tiger to stand up and head to his mistress.  
Dimly I hear the princess exclaim a greeting at her pet. But when I hear the dark voice of the vizier murmur an observation to her, my eyes burn into the ground as I remember the helpless desire. How much time had passed…?  
The chamberlain touches my elbow. I look back at him.  
“Are you alright?” he murmurs, conscious of his place, “You were so still for a moment when you walked in… your face was so pale… Did Feruco...?”  
“I… yes. I mean- no” I stammer out, the shame has given way to fatigue, “I believe I walked too hastily… from the grounds… simply overtired.”  
The chamberlain peers once again at my face, but then sighs, “Feruco is harmless…”  
I gulp, and head him off, “Yes chamberlain. It’s no issue.” The phantom ache of imagined passion almost hurts me, but I breathe deep, then nod at him. He’s slightly convinced. He lets me move away, at any rate, and I go to stand in front of my sister servers.  
/^/


	2. Acquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who can say what it takes to spell a handmaiden into your command?  
Perhaps an opportune moment, a betrayal, an acceptance of your power... Yes, that would do it.
> 
> [yes, the Royal Vizier is a cruel one. Please note, chapter details a physical assault, and an overpowering of Inala in the dream world (or is it?)]

/^/

I got through the rest of my daily duties somehow. My head felt foggy, and I couldn’t wait to lie down. All day those deep eyes haunted my thoughts, even if not another word, another glance, came between us…  
I was disgusted with myself. As though the Royal Vizier had anything but bored curiosity for me. I sighed, hunkering down on my pallet.  
The servant’s quarters echoed with loud conversation, as the day and night shifts exchanged notes. My night replacement, Pitaya, knows about the princess’s new desire for dried figs, and got my notes on the beginner handmaidens under our eye.  
We exchanged some quick jokes at Feruco’s expense, and I took her bed. As the noise quieted down, snores began echoing around the stone walls.  
My eyes drifted close…  
It felt like the dream was waiting for me…  
A large dark shadow slowly walked into the servant’s quarters, stopping at my pallet. It bent over me, and softly, kissed my forehead. The tender breath behind those lips chuffed against my skin, the warmth of that breath sent a glow through me. Not the burning of earlier, but a slow, deliberate spread… feeling like warm honey, coursing throughout. I sighed in pleasure, and felt the shadow caress my cheek, and chant something low. I couldn’t catch the words but felt… cherished.

/^/

I’m humming a soft tune my mother used to sing to me. I had almost forgotten it, but my mind was so relaxed when I awoke that the melody was easy to recall. It was soothing, a lullaby. It was nice to have an accompaniment to the morning ritual- tidy the bed for Pitaya, sitting next to her drooping head at the morning meal, biding her goodbye as I go to the Chamberlain.  
“You seem happy today Inala.”  
I nod, grinning, “I had a really good night’s sleep!” I respond.  
He nods, then goes over the shopping. I write down the requested items – my penmanship is one of the talents that led to my higher position. After a few more pleasantries, I bade goodbye to the chamberlain, and head to the kitchen.  
The lullaby is soothing, it relaxes my mind and makes me feel simple and happy.  
After I get a kitchen basket, I make my way out of the palace, swinging it back and forth.  
There’s a faint halloo from the kennels. I turn and see Feruco jogging towards me. He arrives in a huff. “Inala!”  
He grabs my arm, shocking me out of my placid morning.  
“Feruco-” I start, but he’s dragging me back to the kennels. I look wildly around, but there seems to be only a few guards around, and they are too far away – “Feruco!” I demand, planting my feet. He jerks me forward, but I get a grip on his wrist and heave my arm back, “Feruco-” he seems deaf to my cries, a crazed look in his eyes. He’s drenched in sweat, but its his white knuckled grip on my arm that has me scared, the single-minded pull to the kennels that frighten me. I yell at him to let me go, but he merely grins- no, grimaces- and turns to slap me hard across the face. I cup my cheek in shock, feeling the skin swell. I’m so scared, so in pain, so… angry. I am furious!  
He moves to grab my other arm, to perhaps hoist me like a bag of barely, but I punch him as hard as I can in the face.  
There’s a satisfying thwack as he stumbles back with a curse. I see blood pouring from his nose, take my first full breath since this started, and turn to race back to the castle.  
“Guards!” I shout, waving my arms as I run towards them. I see one turn towards me, and I get out “Help! -” before something tackles me from behind.  
My body hits the steps, my thigh and elbow hit hard, my face catching the edge of the step. Blood flows into my eyes, half blinding me. My hair is yanked, and I’m turned to face Feruco. He is crazed, spitting at me “How dare you, slag!” He slaps me again. I manage to get my hands up, one grabbing for my hair to stop the yanking, the other punching him again and again wherever I can.  
The blood from his nose pours onto me, and I scream, trying to buck his weight off mine.  
His other hand grabs my shirt, beginning to rip it open despite my feverish attacks, “Yes,” he pants, “That makes it sweeter-”  
I’m crying, praying, when he’s roughly pulled off me, taking part of my shirt and hair with him.  
It takes two guards to subdue Feruco, he lashes out like some wild beast, spewing vitriol at me. I’m crouched on the steps, holding me shirt together with one hand, the other trying to stem the blood flow from my head wound. Josef, the friendly guard, calls reinforcements over, and together they manage to bound and gag Feruco. He still struggles against the binding, but soon his movements grow weaker, until he passes out on the pavement.  
The guards hold a brief conference, then Josef comes over to me, “Inala,” he looks at my condition, and hands me a scrap of fabric, “Here, it’s clean. Mostly.”  
I dab at the cut, wincing at the pain. He kneels in front of me, “What happened?”  
I tried to explain through my confusion, “Well he called out to me. I waved back, then he came over and tried to drag me to the kennels-” I paused and gulped back nausea. The sun seemed to have a harder glare than usual. It made my eyes sting with tears.  
“I asked what was going on. I stopped walking.” I gestured vaguely to the kennels, “he, he punched me.” The tears come again, “he punched me in the face Josef.” Josef moved to comfort me, but stopped as I continued, stronger, “and I punched him back!” I smiled a little, but remembered, “that’s when I turned and called out. I tried to get farther away, but…” I trailed off, looking down at the bruises that were making themselves known across my body. Josef paused, then nodded, “yes, we all saw that. He was like a crazed animal.”  
I look at Feruco’s unconscious form. I hadn’t noticed, but he had claw marks around his eyes and down his arms. I look at my nails. I got him. I didn’t realize I said the last bit out loud until Josef chuckled, “Yes you did.”  
Josef stands, and motions to the guards. They hoist Feruco up and take him around to the side of the palace. Josef notices my look, and simply explains, “Dungeon.”  
“Ah,” I say, not needing anything more.  
“Can you stand?”  
I nod (wishing I hadn’t), and force myself to move up the steps, Josef at my side. My head is pounding, and a steady stream of tears leaks out from the brightness.  
I move into the cool interior as Josef corresponds with the interior entry guards. One moves to the barracks, the other to find the chamberlain. My eyes can open in the dimness of the lobby, but this damnable headache means I can barely focus.  
In a moment, relief guards replace those that escorted Feruco, and the chamberlain is rushing down the stairs.  
“My dear, oh my dear! What has happened to you?” It’s the most concern I’ve ever heard from him.  
I feel lightheaded. Cuts and bruises are making themselves known. I drop the rag and put my hand in my pocket. I pull out the shopping list, and hand it to him, “So sorry father,” I slur, handing it to one of the six horrified figures, “Someone else needs to do the shopping.”  
I black out. 

/^/

A deep voice rumbles the notes of my lullaby.  
Strong arms hold me as I fade in, then fade out.

/^/

Scorching kisses. Fire heat. Raw hot member entering me again and again. Red everywhere, overwhelming. Ecstasy. Jafar!

/^/

The shadow is back, checking my bandages, placing kisses over them. Safe. I am safe.

/^/

Those devil lips kiss me down there. A tongue flicks my most sensitive nub. Hands, strong, capable, massage my breasts, roll my nipples. Of, the sensation. Exquisite. I come again. Hard. Wanton. Begging for more. The shadow crows in triumph.  
The shadow. Jafar. Royal Vizier. His. I am His. I will. Yes, Jafar.

/^/

Jafar, I moan, my shadow coalesces into his form. Yes. Its been him. Always. Only him. He’s kissing my shoulders. His weight heavy on top of mine. My arms wrapped around his bare shoulders. Oh -we are both naked, my body is whole, undamaged. The feel of his muscles, the feel of his length rubbing against my thigh, intoxicating. I can’t think. Don’t want to think, ‘just feel’, he whispers in my ear, and I moan again, ‘Jafar’ -he stops me with a kiss. It starts out slow, then deepens. His tongue wraps around mine, and I taste him, his magic, his raw strength, its dizzying. I feel him harden against me.  
I wrap my legs against his waist, wanting him so much I can’t breathe, he breaks the kiss, touches his sweaty forehead to mine, ‘what do you want?’ He whispers, words glide over me, encircle, red words enter my ears and fill my mind, his dark eyes share into mine. I feel he can read every inch of me, but still, there’s the command, I must answer, must speak, “You.” I whisper back, tilting my hips up, tightening my arms around him.  
He gives a little breathless chuckle and kisses me again. I get lost and found in the dance of our tongues and feel him position at my entrance.  
I moan through the kiss, and he breaks off, tilting back a bit, preparing, “so responsive.” He whispers, almost to himself. It sounds like praise, and I smile.  
He takes a hand and dips it between us, rolling my pearl around, making me wet, and heavy with want. I moan harder, “Yes Jafar. Please.”  
I grab him by the waist as he leans up bringing his hand up to his firm mouth, “Inala.” He tastes me on his tongue, the raw erotic sights almost pull me apart then and there. He then puts one finger inside me, rolls it around.  
My feet clench and my body electrify. Oh, my eyes roll back in my head. He rotates his finger, hitting my wall, and I arch my back closer to him. I’m barely aware but grab his wrist to bring the finger to my mouth, tasting me on his skin. We lock eyes again as I lave his digit. A groan escapes him, and he snatches his hand away to grab my waist. Jafar drives into me hard. I gasp at the sensation and try to hold on to his punishing pace. He slams into me, shredding the last vestige I had, and I love it. I feel him so deep in me, filling me completely, the movement a delicious frictions and he pants, his cock ramming into me repeatedly. I manage to hang onto his rhythm and begin to move my hips up and meet him at each thrust. The new angle makes us both groan, and he drives deeper as the strong electric something tightens low in my belly and spreads to every tip of me. The smack of our bodies is loud. I’d normally be embarrassed, but the sensations overrule any coherent thought.  
“So wet, so tight” he gasps out, driving deeper, hunched over me.  
Moans escape me as I grab his face, his arm, the sheets, my breasts, anything to hold onto as the feelings build and wound tighter, higher.  
He’s changing position, leaning back, taking a hand to rub my pearl, and I’m keening at the sensation, begging for more, yes, that, yes, Jafar! He obliges, rubbing and fucking me as I explode, clenching tight around him. He cries out, “Inala! Mine!”, and other phrases I don’t hear because he’s riding my waves and shoots his completion deep in my womb.

/^/

“Perfect” he murmurs. Gently, gently touching my swollen lips. I sigh, feel his body move away, and smile into my pillow.

/^/

I wake up to golden sunlight slanting over my pallet. I am in the servant’s quarters, but its deserted. I sit up, wondering why I had overslept. I swing my legs out, and move to stand, but fall back onto the thin mattress. I’m weak, very weak. Even that small movement had me breaking out in a sweat. I move to mop my forehead, and the pull of bandages catch my eye.  
My legs and arms are mottled with bruises. My knuckles are bandaged, and, I raise a shaky hand to my forehead- yes, a thick bandage covers my eyebrow. I feel grimy, and -oh, no, no, no, no… I remember. I break into chills. I remember what happened to me. Feruco’s attack. How long have I been… but, the dream…?  
My head hurts, and my mouth is desert dry.  
I stagger to my feet, gulping convulsively against rising nausea. I grope my way to the door, using the beds for support. Leaning against the doorframe, I investigate the corridor. Usually there’s always someone about this time of day, but its deserted. I rasp out a calling anyway, but no one answers. My strength fails, and I sink to the floor. I’m confused, I don’t know why the castle seems deserted, how long its been since Feruco… or even why Feruco attacked me… Or the dreams, I bury my head in my arms, but there’s a small voice jeering at me, red snakelike eyes mocking my vivid dreams...  
I want to be back in bed but am too tired to walk. There is silence all around me, oppressive in its unrelenting pressure. I do not understand. Where is the hum of palace activity? Even late at night, one could hear the cleaners, the guard rounds, the press of visitors. But now? I don’t understand. I slowly pull my legs up, circled my arms around my knees, and rest my head. I am so tired, so confused. I don’t notice when I fall back asleep.

/^/

“Poor Inala,” the deep voice croons. There’s a hand carding through my hair, soothing away residual confusion. Strong arms pick me up, cradle me against a warm lean chest.  
I feel small and protected here.  
I sigh, and relax, for I know my Jafar-shadow.  
He carries me to my pallet, setting me gently down, arranging my limbs for rest, pulling the covers over my body.  
I whisper, “I don’t understand.” The hand freezes, then moves to cup my cheek, “I know,” he mumbles at me, “But you will soon princess.”  
I slip away to sleep, feeling like I’ve been kissed, like I’ve been spelled.

/^/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: This work is in progress! A new chapter will be up soon!  
Tha k you for your comments!


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